


Sins of Our Fathers

by quantumgirl



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Starfleet Academy, slow build sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumgirl/pseuds/quantumgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarek died when Spock was still a kid. Spock grew up on Earth. Vulcans freak out a bit. Jim bugs Spock in his labs too often. Business as usual for the (future) crew of the Enterprise.</p><p>[[Indefinite HIATUS]] Sorrryyyyy<br/>____________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>"Come on, Spock." Jim was leaning against the wall; his blonde hair was falling too long over eyes that followed Spock, almost unnervingly. "Come take a walk with me, at least."</p><p>"Jim, I do not require a walk. I am fine."</p><p>"Fine has variable definitions." He smirked.</p><p>"I am functional."</p><p>"It's the anniversary of our dads' deaths. <i>And</i> it's my birthday. Grab a drink with me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole story started just because I was enamored with the idea of Spock in Earth clothing. So I've decided to write a Spock that didn't grow up with his Human side constantly being mocked/shoved down. Hopefully you guys find the idea of an Earth-y Spock as interesting as I do. 
> 
> Tada! Enjoy! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair Gel, a prologue. Read Chapter Notes for explanation. This is a prologue, I repeat, a prologue. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prologue that I completely forgot about because I had it in a different file than the rest of the story. Woops. So here's a prologue. I'll put up a new chapter tomorrow (a chapter 2, that is). Thanks to all who already read Chapter 1!

A small Vulcan boy stared into the mirror with the hint of what would be a frown on a human face. He reluctantly dipped his fingers in more water and ran unsure fingers through his hair.

With much consternation, he watched as his hair took shape for a minute, almost appearing messy, before falling into the severe Vulcan cut—a _nerdy, bowl cut_ , the children at school had called it. A small sigh escaped the boy’s mouth. 

“Spock, sweetie, school starts soon,” Amanda Grayson called from the hallway. 

Spock watched his expression in the mirror, practicing a casual human smile. He only appeared pained. More practice would be necessary. 

“Spock, are you alright?” his mother knocked on the bathroom door. 

“Yes, mother,” Spock intoned, opening the door for her. 

“Why is your hair wet? Did you take a shower with water?” she raised her eyebrows. 

Vulcans did not take showers in the classical human way, preferring the waterless method of the sonic shower. Desert dwelling bodies abhorred the sensation of water surrounding them: it was stifling. His mother had installed a sonic shower when they moved to Terra the year previous, just for him.

“No. I was attempting to get my hair to move.” 

“Oh?”

“I find I am the only individual among my Terran peers who seems to have this problem.” Spock glanced at the mirror then back to his mother. 

Amanda frowned slightly. “Hmm. I believe your hair is more Vulcan than Human, dear. I am sorry.” 

She softly ran her fingers through his hair. His hair was so like Sarek’s, the same texture and weight. Spock felt her sorrow through the points of contact on his scalp. His father had only been deceased for 300 Terran days. 

“It is illogical to apologize for that which you cannot change.”

“Even so.” Her face did not show any of the sorrow that Spock sensed. She smiled—a much more natural smile than he could achieve. “I think I have an idea.”

And so it was that Spock went to school with just enough gel in his hair to make it lose the severity and uniformity of Vulcan hair.

When he came home that day, he silently went to his mother and hugged her, all of his own accord. Amanda Grayson embraced him closely, wishing that all of his problems could be solved with just a little bit of hair gel.


	2. Half-Human

“Damn,” Jim Kirk whispered as he walked into Starfleet’s mess hall. “It’s like fucking high school in here.” 

Leonard McCoy stood next to Jim, surveying the packed array of lunch tables. He rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing you’ll try to sit with the cheerleaders.”

Jim flashed him a winning smile. “Nah. I’m turning over a new leaf here.”

“Ah. Football players?”

“Ha. Ha.” Jim stuck his tongue out at McCoy, who just rolled his eyes again. 

They took a spot at the end of a table without anyone nearby. Jim surveyed the hall, looking for anyone he might recognize from his morning classes. 

“There’s a party on Friday in our dorm,” Jim said offhandedly. He shifted his attention to his food rather than the people around him. 

“I can’t believe I’m living in dorms again,” McCoy murmured, feeling so old. 

“Sorry. Should I call them apartments?” Jim smiled at him. “At least you’re living with me. Imagine if you were living with a 16 year old genius from Alabama.”

McCoy narrowed his eyes. “So is that who you kicked out so you could terrorize me?” 

Jim and McCoy had somehow magically ended up rooming together. Except that McCoy had a feeling it was less magic and more Jim’s dubious moral compass when it came to hacking Starfleet databases. 

“Maybe. Even if not, imagine how much worse you could do than a repeat offender from Iowa.” 

“I can’t imagine how I got so lucky,” he said, dryly. 

Although he complained, McCoy found himself happy that at least he had a roommate that he could stand to be around. He had some abysmal luck in college, with lots of irreconcilable differences. Sort of like with his ex-wife, McCoy thought amusedly.

While Jim had personal space issues and his side of the room looked like a hurricane just came through, McCoy genuinely liked the guy.

“Man, there are so many attractive people in San Francisco. Way better than Iowa. Check out that guy behind you.” Jim made an awkward nod with his head, gesturing over McCoy’s shoulder. 

“You do know my sexuality is about 7000 times less fluid than yours,” McCoy reminded, turning to look over his shoulder anyway. 

McCoy noted the tall dark haired man that Jim was staring at. He supposed, in a sort of unconventional sense, the guy was very attractive. He had pale smooth skin and long, messy dark hair that spoke of not quite caring enough to brush it as much as he should. He wore the standard reds of cadets, but somehow made them look like they signified higher rank than they actually did. 

“My sexuality flows right that direction, I’ll tell you that.” 

“Jesus Christ.” McCoy sighed. 

“Oh god, and he’s sitting with Uhura. Apparently, we need to be at that table.” 

“Sorry, Jim. I don’t think I’m quite pretty or young enough to sit there.” 

“Bah.” Jim waved his fork up and down in the general direction of his torso. “You’re plenty hot.”

McCoy rubbed his eyebrows, feeling a headache beginning to form. 

“Aaaand, Gaila just joined them. I told you about Gaila, right? She’s in my programming class. Orion. Sexy as hell. Come on. Let’s go over there.” Jim quickly threw all of his food back on his tray and began to stand.

“Goddammit, Jim.” McCoy was half tempted just to stay where he was. He ended up following his friend, partially because he was worried Jim would get his ass kicked and partially because hell, he was human, and he didn’t want to sit alone all the time.

When Uhura saw Jim, she frowned. Gaila smiled and waved excitedly. McCoy felt like an awkward shadow. 

Jim landed himself right next to the pretty Orion girl, which also had him sitting across from Uhura and the tall dark haired man. “Hello, ladies,” Jim was drawling, as McCoy sat next to him. 

Jim turned to the handsome guy. “Hey, I’m Jim Kirk. And you are?” 

The man tilted his head subtly, his face remaining emotionless. “I am Spock.”

At the name, McCoy’s head snapped up, and he couldn’t help but widen his eyes. Of course, the guy was Vulcan. Now that he was paying attention, he noticed Spock’s skin was subtly olive-toned. The characteristic ears and eyebrows were hidden behind a mop of dark hair. But now that he realized it, he thought it was quite obvious this guy was not human. Humans rarely sat so still.

“You’re the half-Vulcan, right?” Jim asked. 

Of course, many people knew of him. He was a celebrity for multiple reasons. He was the first human-Vulcan hybrid to be born successfully, which was why McCoy had heard of him. In addition, his father had been the ambassador to Earth before being assassinated over a decade ago. 

“Yes. Half-Vulcan and half-human,” Spock replied, his tone expressionless. 

McCoy could not tell if Spock thought that question was insulting. He knew Vulcans had a superiority complex on the whole, but this one seemed largely indifferent to his heritage, going by the haircut. 

“I like to count him as an alien though,” Gaila smiled over at Spock. “There are far too few of us here.” 

Spock smiled back. _Smiled._ McCoy had never seen a Vulcan smile in his life. 

“I am gratified to be counted among such company.” When Spock turned his head back towards his own food, his hair shifted just enough for McCoy to see the tip of a green-tinged ear. “Although as I have spent over a decade living on earth, I find the term ‘alien’ somewhat misleading.”

“Which planet has your heart though, Spock-y dear? That’s what matters,” Gaila’s voice was melodic and sweet. 

And then, suddenly, Spock was Vulcan. His back stiffened and his face slammed back into an expressionless mask. “As my heart is always with me, I find your sentiment to be misleading.”

Gaila was unperturbed by the edge in Spock’s tone. She rolled her eyes. “He gets literal when he’s uncomfortable.”

“How did you all meet?” Jim waves his hand at their exceptionally attractive lunch mates. “I know Uhura and Gaila are first-years with me. But Spock looks older.”

“He’s graduating this fall,” Uhura supplied. “I met Spock as a child. I have always been proficient with languages, and Spock also went to international language competitions. Although I think he had an unfair advantage.” Uhura smiled at him to show she was kidding. “And Gaila is my roommate.”

“Which concentration are you graduating from?” 

“Command and Science.” Spock answered Jim; he seemed to be relaxing again. 

“Both? How long did that take?” Jim whistled to show he was impressed. McCoy silently agreed.

“Two point five years. As Nyota stated, I believe my ancestry allotted me an unfair advantage as I completed many of the science courses far before enrolling in Starfleet.” 

“Nyota!” Jim slammed his hand on the table and pointed at Uhura. “I figured out your name.” 

Nyota rolled her eyes. And McCoy found himself wondering how often Jim saw rolled eyes in his life. 

“Spock has the highest scores in Starfleet history for the Science track right now. I’m sure he’ll graduate holding that record,” Uhura bragged, smiling over at him. 

McCoy honestly couldn’t tell if Uhura was sincerely crushing on Spock or sincerely proud of her childhood friend. Interesting.

“As you mentioned before, I had an unfair advan—” Spock was looking distinctly uncomfortable and incredibly human now. 

“Stop it, Spock. You worked hard, and you achieved something.” Uhura let Spock continue being awkwardly humble and turned to McCoy.

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally met. By the amount of eye rolling you’ve been doing over the last five minutes, I gather that you are not as inane as Jim Kirk,” Uhura held out a hand. 

McCoy found himself feeling defensive of Jim but grasped her hand anyway. “Name’s Leonard McCoy. Medical Track. As for this one, he’s a little rough around the edges, but whip smart and a damn good friend. And that’s coming from someone who’s lived with him for only a month.” 

“I may or may not have instrumented a rather unfortunate incident for his unfortunate ex-wife when she came to bitch him out about the divorce settlement.” Jim nudged McCoy’s shoulder, and he found himself fighting a smile.

Uhura looked dubious but didn’t comment. 

“So then, you have obtained your medical degree?” Spock glanced up at McCoy from under his fringe. 

“Yeah, University of Mississippi. But I only have human, Vulcan, and Betazoid certifications. It requires a helluva lot more to get any sort of interesting work in Starfleet.”

Spock looked uncomfortable for a brief moment before cracking another slightly uncomfortable smile for McCoy. “Then I suppose you probably know more about me than I do, Doctor.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that, Spock.” McCoy suddenly felt bad for that part of his education, like he had been intruding on something he was not supposed to.

“When my mother brought me to Earth after my father’s death, I was a subject of much curiosity. It is not your fault. You should not be troubled.” 

“It was just another case file. I never really thought I’d meet you. I had no idea you were in Starfleet.” 

“Fortunately, the leader of my Vulcan clan, T’Pau, intervened and helped my mother and I maintain a modicum of privacy on Earth. So my life has become somewhat less of a spectacle.” Spock spoke these things with the emotional detachment expected of most Vulcans, but McCoy fancied himself better at reading people than that and could have sworn he saw some sadness or perhaps anger.

“Humans so love a spectacle,” Gaila murmured. 

Everyone fell silent at that. McCoy didn’t really know what to say to help, and Jim for once seemed mollified. 

Spock stood rather suddenly from the table. “I have a class to teach.” He looked at Jim and McCoy. “A pleasure making your acquaintance,” he offered stiffly.

As Spock walked away, Jim and Uhura both followed him with their eyes. McCoy slapped Jim on the back of the head. “Don’t do anything stupid, Jim.”

“Me?” Jim put a hand over his heart, and McCoy was unimpressed.

McCoy sighed and turned to the rest of their lunch companions.

“So Nyota, Gaila, what are your specialties?”

“I’m in engineering, specifically software programming,” Gaila provided with a smile.

“A pity.” Jim winked at her. “The red uniform will clash with your hair.”

“I’ll have you know I look amazing in red.” Gaila rolled her eyes and motioned to her red cadet uniform for evidence. “And anyway, blondie, your gold command uniform’s just gonna make those locks look dull.”

“But my baby blues will shine.” Jim grinned. 

“You’re on command track?” Uhura’s voice was disbelieving. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I have natural charisma.” Jim spoke around a mouthful of fries, and McCoy rubbed his temples. 

“You’re a disgrace.” Uhura shook her head. 

“You’ll love me one day,” Jim assured her. 

Uhura ignored him and turned to McCoy. “To answer your earlier question, I’m in operations, studying xenolinguistics. I hope to be a communications officer.”

“I’m impressed,” McCoy told her with a smile. “I’m terrible with languages.”

“He can barely speak Standard.” Jim lowered his voice. “He’s from _Georgia_.” 

McCoy resisted smacking Jim over the back of the head again. “Like you have a leg to stand on, Iowa.” 

Gaila giggled, and Uhura stifled a laugh of her own. 

“You need to work on your bedside manner, Bones.” Jim grumbled.

“You started it!” McCoy rolled his eyes again. 

“Bones?” Uhura questioned.

“It’s what his friends call him,” Jim said swiftly. 

“It’s what _he_ calls me.” McCoy ignored Jim muttering ‘That’s what I said’ and continued. “You ladies can call me Leonard or McCoy.”

They conversed about Starfleet and San Francisco for a little while; sharing some stories they each had amassed in their short time attending thus far. Uhura even seemed to be able to tolerate Jim when he wasn’t deliberately bating her.

Jim and McCoy eventually said their goodbyes to the ladies as they separated to go to their afternoon classes. 

“Do you think Uhura and Spock are dating?” Jim asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Jim,” McCoy sighed.

“I’m just generally curious!” Jim splayed his arms. “She seemed like she was crushing hard.”

“I can’t tell if you’re jealous of her or Spock.” 

“Neither!” Jim tucked his hands into his pockets. “I swear.”

“I can’t imagine any human _wanting_ to date a Vulcan, not to be xenophobic or anything. But Spock seems more human than most, so who knows, maybe he feels.”

“Spock’s mom theoretically loved a Vulcan guy.”

“Theoretically.” McCoy shrugged.

“Or else she just had a thing for grim faces and pointy ears.” 

“You’ve gotta work on your cultural sensitivity.” McCoy shook his head. “You’re talking about a well-respected, deceased ambassador.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure not to mention it to Spock’s face.”

“I wager you a bottle of bourbon that Spock physically injures you within the next year because you offend him somehow.” McCoy gave Jim a sidelong glance.

Jim bounced in front of him and reached out an arm. “You’ve got a deal.”


	3. Spock's Lab

Spock did not think of Jim Kirk much after lunch. He considered the social experience when he meditated that evening, found it to be mildly amusing and then moved on. 

He had much more important things to consider. His thesis was due soon, and he entirely intended on completing one on his gravimetric pulsar research as well as one regarding ethical uses of telepathy when in command of a starship. 

He spent much of his time in his research lab. Labs helped him concentrate, stay centered, despite the whirlwind that was the Academy. Being a telepath—a fairly strong one at that—made it difficult to truly isolate oneself. The library was full of minds, the majority of which were studying, but human minds were easily distracted, flicking from federation law to pithy social problems on a single breath. 

Spock had good mental shields, but even after fortifying his shields, he could still _hear_ them, their breathy whispers that continued into the early morning. If Humans ever wanted more species in Starfleet, they would have to understand that the senses of alien races were on an entirely different scale.

The library had thus been abandoned as a study location swiftly. Even his room—a single one, allotted to most telepaths—was hardly a Faraday cage, which was required to block telepathy. He had already suggested such an addition to encourage more telepathic and empathic races at Starfleet. 

So Spock had adjourned to the science labs. There were plenty of minds, plenty of words, and plenty of thoughts, but the dull hum of science had long been more of a comfort than a distraction to him. He enjoyed hearing Cadet Mariana’s research on trans-species stem cell morphology, Professor X’ta’s research on gravity waves in binary star systems, and Ensign Taylor’s debates on the use of the Hilbert space to clarify the theory behind quantum field generators. 

The research labs were Spock’s haven. Science had always been where Spock felt he belonged. Amidst a life of not quite fitting on Vulcan or Terra, he had found a home among the logical minds of scientists—be they Vulcans or Humans or any of the species with which Spock had researched. 

Which was why Spock was particularly flustered to find someone at his desk in the lab only one day after his rather ordinary lunch with Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy.

“Excuse me?” Spock said, coming up behind the Human at his station. 

A shock of blonde hair turned, blue eyes flashing up at him.

“Hey Spock,” The Human said with a grin. 

Spock frowned. “Jim Kirk? Why are you at my desk?”

“I didn’t touch anything, I swear.” Jim shrugged. “I just wanted to come say hello.”

“For what purpose?”

“I dunno.” Jim was moving Spock’s chair a quarter turn periodically every 3 seconds, back and forth, back and forth. “I was wandering around the research building. I met with Professor Met’la about maybe joining up with his experimental warp core group.”

“Are you not on command track?” Spock was flustered, feeling that somehow this boy had taken over his space.

“Well, yeah, but I want to know how my ship works when I’m her captain. They don’t discourage cross-specialization research.”

“No,” Spock agreed. “Would you vacate my chair?” 

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Jim actually did look apologetic. “I probably should have sent you a message or something before just barging in here.”

“Perhaps.” Spock tried to sound relaxed, but he had never been good at feigning casual disinterest.

“Would you tell me about your research?” Jim asked, smiling again. 

“Why?” Spock asked warily. Jim’s behavior was starting to parallel that of children from his Earth school, pretending to have an interest in him only as a novelty or for as long as he would help them with schoolwork.

Jim sat on Spock’s desk, letting his feet dangle off of the edge. Spock had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking the Human to desist. 

“I like science. I don’t want to _do_ it, per say. I prefer engineering, but I like to hear about it.” Jim was tapping his fingers to an unknown tune. “And you like science. So tell me about it.”

Spock frowned. His mother had told him to stop being so suspicious of everyone many times, but he still had a difficult time relaxing the defenses he had built around himself. With her admonishments in his mind, he began tellilng Jim about his research.

Surprisingly, Jim ended up being not only an attentive listener but an active one. He had yet to take cosmology or astrophysics or astrogation, but he knew the basic math and theory behind Spock’s research workably well. Spock taught him the beginnings of some advanced physics, forgetting that he had desired to write another chapter of his thesis this afternoon. 

Spock leaned back after two hours of writing in one of Jim’s PADDs, where he had been explaining a particularly vexing mathematical conundrum, blinking up at the Human, who had sat on the desk listening the whole time. 

“I apologize for an impromptu lecture,” Spock said, setting his stylus down. “When I begin thinking about my work, it is difficult to stop.”

“Nah. I asked for it.” Jim picked up the PADD and looked through the work. It was multiple pages at this point. “Did you learn all of this here, at Starfleet?”

“Negative,” Spock leaned back in his chair, a habit he had picked up on Terra. “I attended the Vulcan Science Academy for three years prior to transferring to Starfleet.”

“Damn.” Jim closed down the PADD, letting it sit on his lap. “How were you possibly prepared for the VSA after attending Earth schools?”

“I supplemented my education independently.” Spock tilted his head, considering his years in secondary school on Terra. “Earth does not lack proficient individuals nor knowledge. I have found the primary difference in Vulcan and Human education to be the reliance upon the Vulcan eidetic memory and the ability to multitask—for example performing advanced differential equations while also outlining a defense of pre-Surakian philosophy. With the help of Vulcan teachers on Earth, I was able to obtain the necessary tools and train my mind to operate as Vulcans might expect.”

“Why’d you leave the VSA then?” Jim was frowning. 

Spock stiffened, immediately feeling uncomfortable. He tightened his mental controls, not that Jim would notice. 

“I decided Starfleet was a better fit, you might say,” Spock bit out. 

Jim nodded quickly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. None of my business.” He hopped off of the desk, shoving the PADD in his bag. “Thanks for the lecture, Spock. Really. I had fun.”

“You are an odd individual, Mr. Kirk.” 

“Yeah,” Jim grinned ruefully. “I’ve been told.”

Spock glanced at his work screen and then back to Jim, suddenly feeling the need for silence.

“Right,” Jim nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work. Sorry for bothering you. I’ll make sure to drop a message first next time.” Jim started to go for a handshake but then swiftly corrected and brought his hand up and formed the _ta’al_ quite well. “Live long and prosper,” he said in passable Vulcan. 

“Peace and long life.” Spock nodded at him, responding in Standard.

Jim began to leave, striding out the door watching his feet. He turned just as the door opened for him. “And hey, I know you’re graduating and, probably too mature, but you should come to the party in the first year dorms this Friday, if you want. I’m making Bones come, and he’s older too. And Uhura will be there. Seriously, it’ll be fun.”

Spock furrowed his brow. “You are inviting me to a party?”

“Yeah.” Jim shrugged, flushing a bit. “I know it’s a stupid first year thing. Forget I asked.”

“I am merely confused about your interest in my person.”

Jim flushed more, blood filling his cheeks. Spock would call it a quaint Human reaction, if he had not experienced it himself. 

“You’re cool. I just get this vibe from people when I meet them, and I get a good vibe from you.” Jim laughed lightly. 

“Vibe?” Spock raised his eyebrows. “I do not believe that is a scientifically sound hypothesis.”

“I know,” Jim said, but he did not seem particularly perturbed by his illogical reasoning. 

“I will consider your proposal, Mr. Kirk.”

“Jim. Seriously, call me Jim.”

“Alright, Jim.” 

Jim smiled and left the lab. Spock watched as the door closed behind the Human, frowning as he realized that these labs were coded to open for authorized personnel only. Had Jim hacked the system? Rather than being angry, he was largely confused. He helped _design_ the computer systems that secured all of the labs in this building. 

With a curious frown and a swift swipe of the fingers, he activated his terminal. What had Jim Kirk done to his security codes?


	4. Hacking Algorithms

Spock didn’t come to the dorm party. Jim wasn’t exactly surprised. He had drunkenly told Uhura that he invited her pointy-eared friend, and she had laughed aloud. 

“Spock doesn’t really do stuff like this. Imagine being around this many drunk people as a telepath.”

Jim had not necessarily _forgotten_ that Vulcans were at least a mostly telepathic race, but the fact _had_ slipped his mind. 

Spock did not respond to any of his attempts at communication over the next week, so Jim assumed he had accidentally offended the Vulcan by inviting him out. Jim tried not to be bummed about this turn of events, but he was a poor sport. Bones could tell he was put out.

“Look at it this way,” Bones was telling him casually as he crunched on an onion ring. They were having lunch together, as they always did. “If Spock had come, we probably wouldn’t have gotten to drink Chekov’s dubiously obtained alcohol.”

“I think Chekov might have made that stuff.” Jim grinned.

“Nah, I know moonshine when I taste it.”

“Of course you do, Georgia.”

“Don’t even, Iowa.”

Their lunch was continuing as usual when Jim saw Spock for the first time in a week. His shoulders were stiff, and his eyes were scanning the cafeteria. When Spock zeroed in on Jim, his expression did not change, but he turned on his heel in their direction. 

“Hobgoblin, eleven o’clock,” Jim murmured to his lunch companion, looking down at his plate to avoid the Vulcan’s gaze. “He looks sorta pissed.” 

Bones was craning his neck around to look when Spock strolled up behind McCoy, causing the good doctor to jump at the sudden appearance of a Vulcan. Said Vulcan was peering at Jim in an almost-glare.

“How did you do it?” Spock asked abruptly, his PADD clattering to the table in an unnecessarily dramatic gesture.

A few people near them turned to look at the ruffled Vulcan. Spock paid them no attention.

“Do what?” Jim asked, genuinely perplexed and a little intimidated. 

“Get into my lab. I have poured over the security codes, _my_ security codes. They show no signs of either compromise or tampering. How did you obtain access?”

Jim blinked, only reeling for a second before he let his lips rise in a slow, satisfied grin. “Ah hah, Mr. Spock. You caught me.”

“And yet I can find no evidence of your wrongdoing. You will explain,” the Vulcan said sharply.

Jim shrugged. “I like coding.”

“You are on Command Track,” Spock said flatly.

“And I also program.”

Spock watched him closely for a beat. “Then how did you do it? How did you get in?”

Jim considered the man before him, his hair was messier than when Jim had first met him, his eyes slightly bloodshot with thin green tendrils, and his lips tight against pale skin. 

“Why should I tell you?” Jim asked, petulantly.

Spock blinked, his knuckles turning white where he braced himself forward on the lunch table. “First and foremost, to protect the science laboratories. If you can hack them, another individual may follow. Another individual—or yourself, for that matter—might use such access for nefarious purposes.”

“Nefarious,” Jim echoed, raising his eyebrows.

Spock said nothing.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jim said, splaying his hands before him in a symbol of good will. “I’ll tell you how I did it _if_ you come out with us this weekend. We’re going to Chester’s.”

Bones snorted, stifling a laugh with his napkin. 

Spock glanced at the doctor with confusion and then back to Jim. “You, yet again, are inviting me to a Human social function?”

“Hey! Gaila is coming. Don’t be a xenophobe.” Jim smirked. “And I promise that neither I nor anyone else will access your labs for _nefarious_ purposes.”

Spock watched him with incredulity. “You are proposing the trade of a social outing for knowledge of your hacking algorithms?”

Jim met Spock’s eyes, flashing the Vulcan his best smile. “That’s the deal.”

Spock lifted his PADD, tucking it gently at his side. “I will consider.”

“Alright. Comm me. You’ve got my number.” Jim gave Spock a casual salute, knowing he looked like an arrogant asshole, but he couldn’t help it. 

Jim swore he saw Spock’s eyes roll as the older cadet turned on his heel to leave the cafeteria.

Laughter bubbled from Jim’s chest as soon as the Vulcan was gone. 

“Damn, Jim. You hacked Spock’s code?” Bones eyed his friend tiredly. 

“Nah.” Jim shrugged with an impish grin and returned to messing with the food on his plate.

Bones frowned, glancing at the spot where Spock had been leaning. “But then…”

“I just asked that pretty lab tech who works in his lab to let me in. Said I was one of Spock’s students.” Jim laughed lightly. “I’m actually totally innocent this time.”

Bones raised his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to use this situation to bug the hell out of Spock.” Jim smirked. 

“You _trying_ to lose our bet?”

“Nah,” Jim said casually. “It’s just way more fun inciting a Vulcan than I had anticipated.”

“Jim, Vulcans are very strong.”

“He’s only half.” Jim rolled his eyes.

“Half more than you.”

“I could hack his labs, if I wanted,” Jim said, as if that settled everything.

“Sure.”

“Seriously. Ask Gaila.”

McCoy eyed him for a few moments, and Jim regarded him earnestly. “So what’ll you tell Spock if he actually comes out this weekend?”

“I’ll show him my most effective hacking algorithm,” Jim said, his face a fake mask of sincerity.

“And that is?” Bones asked wearily.

“My baby blues." Jim winked across the lunch table.

Bones sighed.


End file.
